Always a Sellsword
by xenowriter
Summary: Jaime meets up with Bronn at a sparring session, but learns that Bronn may be paid by someone else other than Tyrion.


Always a Sellsword

The sound of waves crashing drowned out the distant noises from the city. Jaime felt a chill go down his body from the evening air as the sun began to set on the horizon. Bronn was late. Looking down at his sparring sword, Jaime gripped the handle tighter with his left hand. No matter how many weeks he had been practicing, it just felt so unnatural. His green eyes then fell upon the golden caste that resembled his lost left hand. His face grimaced. A knight without a right hand. What a farce!

As the sky developed into a pinkish hue, Jaime scowled. This just wasn't working out. Maybe Sir Bronn of the Blackwater gave up on him. Defeated, he turned and just as he was about to approach the steps, he saw the sellsword casually strolling down to where he was. "You're late" Jaime flatly stated.

Bronn moved past him and gave a non-caring shrug. "Your brother paid me to keep my mouth shut. Not to be on time." Before giving the other a chance for another rebuttal, he added, "You see your brother, yet?" His tone filled with annoyance. The topic came up at their last session and Jaime had remained silent. Clearly, he wasn't about to let this go. Especially with everything going on at King's Landing. Jaime didn't want any part of this, although his sister was not about to let the chance of killing their brother go. He strongly believed that his younger brother had no part in Geoffrey's murder. His argument fell on deaf ears. His father would be one of the judges of the court and he detested Tyrion just as much as Cersei did. If not more. After all, to Tywin, his youngest son was an embarrassment to the Lannister name.

As he walked over to his usual spot, he heard the quick boots of Bronn's approach. Pivoting around on his heel, Jaime's blade met Bronn's and the force of the thrust slid him back a few inches. Bronn gave a wink with a grin. "Aye, at least you're learnin'.

After the man stepped back, Jaime lowered his guard, but remained poised. This sellsword was a trickster and even a sparring blade could hurt if hit in the right spot. "More of your tests?" He shot back.

"Just making sure you are payin' attention," Bronn whistled happily as he walked away. "You want to run me down."

Jaime's face faltered as guilt plagued him. How did he read his mind? There was a strong urge to lunge at the man even when his back was turned. In his younger days, maybe he would have already been there. Since being Robb's captive, a lot of things seemed to have changed. Was he getting older? Slower? Scrunching his face, Jaime raced forward to make the attack. Bronn was ready and sidestepped quickly, before tripping him with his foot. The blonde hair man collapsed to the ground with a thud. "Mind yourself."

Frustrated, Jaime struggled to get back up and used his right hand to prop his body up. Just as he did, he felt Bronn's foot strike his back. This made his face hit the stone flooring hard. His sword wriggled free from his hand and he heard the sound of it clanging nearby. Lifting his aching head, he moved to get his sword but Bronn kicked it away. "I could have killed you three times by now."

Jaime glowered. "You're not fighting fair." He watched Bronn move away to allow him time to gather himself.

"Fair?" Bronn scoffed. "You think any of those men of Stannis' thought about fightin' fair when they were storming the castle?" He paused. "All they thought about was getting inside and fuckin' your sister."

The statement pricked a nerve and Jaime glared coldly. "Careful."

Chuckling, Bronn sat down on the wall and ran his hand through his messy hair. "What did you tell your brother?"

"About?"

"Are you going to fight for him?'

"You know I can't do that." Jaime lifted up his golden right hand.

"You could if you wanted to," Bronn replied matter-of-factly. "You just don't bloody want to. You're too scared of your father… and your sister."

"You're his sellsword. Why don't you?" Jaime shifted the conversation.

"He didn't pay me to fight for him." Bronn rose up from his seated position and moved back to his pack that he dropped off at the stairs.

Watching him, Jaime inhaled as he felt the words on the tip of his tongue. A part of him debated on pushing them back down. Then as if he lost control of his body, he spoke up, "What if I paid you to keep your mouth shut and fight?"

Bronn's back remained to him. "Sorry, I've been paid not to."

The statement threw Jaime off. His mind went back to his earlier dealings with Tywin and Cersei. He pretty much knew their plans on how they wanted to proceed with the trial. There was no talk of Bronn anywhere. Was one of them going by his back and buying people for their silence? How much were they willing to go to ensure of his brother's demise? Seeing Bronn making his way up the stairs, Jaime panicked, "Who is it?"

"Someone who has more money than you at the current moment."


End file.
